


Burn Me Up

by samalambis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blacksmith!Dean, Bottom Dean, Crusader!Castiel, M/M, Top Castiel, i dont know, just take it, possible abuse of parentheses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalambis/pseuds/samalambis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because no matter how useful or great a warrior Castiel was, he was still just a face amongst thousands of soldiers, still just a human like everyone else even if sometimes he seemed larger than life, more important than anything Dean's ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> a friend requested top!crusader!cas and bottom!blacksmith!dean and who was i to deny her?

The stifling heat rising from the forge did nothing to soothe the biting chill of the outside air, snow blowing in through the cloth he set up at the main entrance and ruining any chance of warmth Dean Winchester, the town smithy, had. His teeth chattered against his will and with every harsh exhale came a puff of white that only set in stone how cold it was. Yet Dean, being the only one capable of working a smith (he feared letting anyone else near his baby), was stuck with the grueling task of sharpening and forging weapons for soldiers and the town militia, even if a small storm was raging outside. One that seemed to be getting worse with every passing minute.

With a grunt he slammed his hammer down one last time on the newly forged blade, dipping it into the water (which needed no ice for today thanks to wonderfully loving Mother Nature) and setting it on a rack to examine his work. It wasn’t his best but he was cold and wet and felt he should have some leeway for even _accomplishing_ a piece of work in this weather. The only thing good that came from this was the little bit of warmth he was able to soak up as he worked.

Which wasn’t much but hey, Dean always tried his best to look on the bright side of things. He rolled his shoulders, taking off a glove to run a hand over his neck, grimacing when it came back covered in black soot. With a grumble of annoyance he walked over to where he kept his cloth, pulling a small torn rag from the bunch to clean off his hand and neck, keeping the other glove on incase he needed to reach into something especially dirty.

He nearly finished the wonderful task of cleaning down his workspace -he always hated this bit; smithing, he enjoyed, not the cleaning- when he heard the sound of familiar hoof beats on the dirt road that ran through the town. He let a small smile slip, knowing exactly who it was by the sound of the heavy _thump_ and the incessant noise of chainmail and armor clinking. He heard the drop of a shield land on the dusty floor and turned around, grin bright in place when his eyes landed on the familiar form of his friend Castiel decked out in his armored uniform (and with glee noted the snow coating the entirety of him), the curtains billowing behind him and letting more and more freezing snow-rain slip in.

Friend being an understatement considering him and Castiel have delved into… things that weren’t exactly agreeing or safe for the sanctity of all the dutiful church goers. But Dean’s never been one to care much for the opinions of others, and God? He forsake that bastard years ago when his parents were taken from him. So when the exceptionally good looking soldier Castiel came along, who thankfully had the same ideas of what they should be doing behind closed doors, who was he to disagree on the off chance the big man in the sky will get angry and spit fireballs and damnation?

Dean says let him.

“Hey soldier, long time no see.” Dean said with a lazy grin, dropping his rag and turning bodily to face him, leaning back against his crafts table. Castiel nodded his affirmation, helmet obscuring his face. His friend made a few steps closer to him, armor clinking as the metal of his pauldron adorned on his left shoulder followed the movement smoothly, ice crystals drifting off him. Dean eyed the steel with pride, Castiel’s armor being by far his best work. The smooth metalwork and the intricate details he added –even more noticeable with the snow caking the designs- along the sides just so Castiel would stand out amongst the crowds. Be given the honour and respect he deserves.

Castiel stopped just a few feet shy of Dean, keeping mind to not get too close because they were out in the open and getting caught and stoned to death didn’t really agree with his plans for he and Dean. He flexed his hands in his gloves, breaking the ice that had formed there, before reaching up and pulling his helmet off, letting out a sigh that dissipated into the air in the form of little white clouds. Dean took a moment to examine his face with fond eyes, refusing the urge to reach up and swipe his hand through the messy black hair. The tired lines of Castiel’s face was drawn into its usual serious exposition, snow that slipped in through the cracks of the helmet sticking to his stubble and making it appear white in color.

“You growing old without me?” He joked and Castiel gave him the smallest indication of confusion, just a soft crinkling of his brow, though by now Dean was well versed in Castiel face language and could practically hear the unspoken question. He looked around, wary of any eyes watching them. Upon finding no one near or close enough to see (not through this snowy storm) he reached his ungloved hand up to pat Castiel’s cheek, scraping a bit of the ice off.

“Your beards gone frosty.” Dean said, wiping his now wet hand on his damp clothes, frowning when it accomplished nothing and only served to remind him he was freezing and damp and was probably going to be sick if he doesn’t go inside soon. He looked over to where Castiel stood, noticing now the discomfort drawn across his face. Dean made a soft noise, figuring it must not be comfortable standing in armor all day while a storm raged on, poor guy must be freezing.

“Want to head inside?” Dean asked with a thumb jerking in the general direction of his house, not looking forward to the short trek through the howling winds which by sounds of it were picking up speed by the second. Castiel gave a short jerk of a nod before picking up his shield where he dropped it on the floor, wiping off some of the mud now clumping on it from the water and dirt mixing together. He slipped the shield back on his arm, drawing open the cloth Dean used as a make shift wall for his shop and grunting when a gust of wind pulled them all the way back, the tunic that went over the chainmail of Castiel’s armor billowing behind him.

Dean cursed when plenty of his supplies were pushed out of place, some smashing to the ground and making far too large of a mess for Dean to be bothered with right now. With a rough pull to Castiel’s armored arm from the smithy they marched through the snow, squinting through the flurry as they finally arrived at Dean’s cottage, shoving the door open and shutting it just as fast. Dean quickly removed his black leather apron he wore while smithing, throwing it near the unlit fireplace, Castiel moving to get wood and tossing it into the small pit.

“Your stones.” He finally said, his voice thick from not being used for so long and Dean nodded, tossing over two small flint stones, Castiel catching them deftly. By the time Dean found himself in a change of clothes the fireplace was lit and all the windows were shut tightly, metal bars shoved through the lock on them to keep the wooden panes from bursting open. Dean stretched his arms above his head, groaning when he felt all the kinks in his spine pop, he rolled his neck and looked to where Castiel stood by the pit, armor now leaking water as the ice melted and leaving a damp spot on his ground.

“You gonna change out of that armor anytime soon? You’re leaking water onto my ground.” Castiel seemed taken aback by the words, looking down to where the heat was finally melting the frost as if he just noticed it was happening.

“Cold get to your head already?” Dean joked and Castiel gave a small snort, cold shaking hands attempting and failing at unstrapping the leather that held his armor in place. The smithy walked over to where Castiel stood, raising a hand to tap the soldiers own. “I’ll get it.” He said, reaching to the strap that held the iron pauldron in place, frowning when his own hands still weren’t warm enough to get the buckle undone. With a sigh he leaned back, looking behind Castiel –and pointedly ignoring the smirk on the warrior’s face- to the animal skins (gifts from his brother) he let hang near the fireplace to dry. Grabbing the rabbit fur he handed it to Castiel.

“I guess you can work on drying yourself off for now?” Dean offered.

“What happened to unstrapping my armor?” Castiel shot back, but grabbed the animal skin nonetheless.

“Change of plans.” Dean said with a chuckle and moved away to give him some space, Castiel making quick work of drying the chain work off, squeezing the water out of the blue and white tunic before placing the rabbit fur back where it hung and taking a heavy seat on the large log (Dean didn’t want chairs taking up too much room) by the fire, his armor clanging back into place loudly. Dean shrugged and sat down next to Castiel, their shoulders brushing, the chill of the cool metal running a shiver down the smithy’s spine. They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the fire crackling and the winds howling outside the only noise besides their breathing.

“So… We can either sit here until the storm dies down and you return to your duty, or we can have a bit of fun while we’re alone and no one can hear us.” He said, looking to his right where Castiel sat, a sly grin sliding into place. Castiel balled his hands before stretching the fingers out, looking to Dean with a sigh.

“I’m cold and tired and still wearing my armor Dean.” Was all Castiel said, turning his head to look back at the fire. Dean frowned, licking at his chapped lips before standing up, cracking his hands and coming to stand right in Castiel’s viewpoint of the fire. One, the wondrous activities Dean wanted to do would most definitely warm them up, two, _adrenaline_ , and three? Castiel was the hottest thing by far (besides Dean) when he was wearing his uniform. Not to mention the fact that Dean had crafted said uniform, that just made it all the better.

He looked to the right, where his bed and drawers were, and to the small window that was shut tightly, where the sounds of raging winds could be heard. He frowned, not liking the fact a blizzard was most likely on the verge of breaking out. He could deal with being snowed in, he had Castiel here to help with the digging out, but his poor shop would be inundated with snow and ice and wouldn’t _that_ be fun to clean up? He really hated winter sometimes.

“There’s a blizzard going on.” He said, taking a step closer to Castiel who was leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, apparently in deep thought. Castiel made a small humming sound, letting Dean know he heard him but the smithy didn’t feel like talking right now. It’s been over two weeks since he last saw his soldier and that was because Castiel was sent on a mission where he could have died and Dean would never have known, just left with the memory of him riding off on his white war horse and never returning. 

Because no matter how useful or great a warrior Castiel was, he was still just a face amongst thousands of soldiers, still just a human like everyone else even if sometimes he seemed larger than life, and was so smart it made Dean want to cry that he was drafted into the war when he was so young and forged into a killing machine where he should have been sent off to learn how to read and write and philosophize. Where he would have been allowed to have a life but now he couldn’t, because he was nearing his fortieth winter and there wasn’t enough time in the world for him to unlearn his teachings of blood and blades. Even if Castiel deserved more he would never have it, only the chance of dying on every pointless mission the generals would send him and his troops on, just for the chance to have an upper hand in this war that has been going on for far too long. 

Castiel could die just on the off chance that their king could come closer to his ‘glorious’ win.

Dean didn’t like to think about those things.

He didn’t want to think at all right now, so he went with his primal urges and moved forward, gripping Castiel by the shoulders and attempting to haul him up, grunting with the effort because he was heavy with all his armor on. Castiel made an inquisitive sound and stood up, straightening his back and looking down at Dean with confusion, almost sensing the mood drop in his friend (lover, but if they spoke the word out loud they feared others would find out and the idea was simply too terrifying for them). The smithy didn’t say anything, just held on tighter to the metal that protected Castiel, fingers sliding slightly on the cold surface as he lunged forward, capturing the rough lips with his own.

Castiel made a surprised sound before returning the kiss, gloved hands gripping Dean’s hips as he leaned forward, stubble rough against Dean’s cheek. The smithy let out a sigh of relief, hands sliding to wrap around the soldiers neck, for now enjoying the slow kiss because it was an affirmation that he was alive and not lying dead in some field with an arrow or sword through him. He was alive and here and real beneath his hands, and not one damn archer or nosy peasant would separate them. Not here, not in the safety of his cottage while a blizzard raged outside.

One of Castiel’s hand slid up to Dean’s cheek, clothed thumb rubbing softly while angling his face so their lips slotted together better, his tongue sliding along Dean’s lower lip slow and sure. Dean opened his mouth, letting out a soft moan at the slick slide feel, but wanting more. He wanted it fast and now because he was great at not thinking about things but now that Castiel was here and alive he couldn’t help but want. He pushed more bodily into the warrior, enjoying the chill of the armor that kept Castiel alive during every battle, the only safety net Dean was able to provide himself after they started their endeavors and Castiel announced he would be going back to active duty soon.

Castiel gave him what he wanted, pulling away to push his head into Dean’s neck, breathing him in while walking them towards the nearest wall (because Dean may be scared for his safety while he’s gone, but Castiel himself fears losing Dean most above all, fears leaving this world without saying goodbye, without seeing his smile one last time). He pushed Dean into the wall with his own body, leaning down again to nuzzle into his neck, enjoying the warmth and smell that was just simply Dean that radiated from there. The smithy let out a stuttering breath, one hand resting on Castiel’s forearm while the other pet lightly through the mussed black hair, a soft smile playing his features.

“You gonna keep sniffing me all day or are we actually going to do something?” He asked quietly, hand working a few knots out of the soldiers hair, even if he wouldn’t mind just staying here with him. Castiel just mumbled in response, pushing closer to Dean and wanting to just keep the man there forever, here in his arms where he was safe from raids and bandits and anything else that wanted to harm this small village while he was away on missions.

“Let me enjoy this.” Castiel said, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of Dean’s jaw, where the neck was weakest, all the while pushing his head slightly into Dean’s scrubbing hand. Dean angled his head up, looking to his ceiling and making a soft humming sound.

“Hm… I’d much rather enjoy something else with you.” Dean said, hand rubbing through his hair suddenly tightening their grip to pull Castiel’s head up, giving him a cheeky grin before pressing a more heated kiss to the others lips. Castiel rolled his eyes before reciprocating, pushing Dean harder into the wall and kissing him for all he’s worth. Dean let out a small moan when Castiel once more slide his tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own and leaving the smithy breathless when he pulled back to lay waste to his neck.

“You kiss… way better than you have any right to.” Dean said slowly, trying to get his breath back but failing when Castiel was busy licking and biting his neck, leaving his marks there for Dean to later blame on some tumble with a bar wench. With all this wonderful activity Dean’s head began to spin, blood quickly rushing from his head and into his lower regions, leaving him writhing for more contact, more pressure where it was really needed. He clenched his hand where it was holding onto Castiel’s hair, the other scrabbling for a hold on the armored back when Castiel slotted a thigh between his own, rubbing against the hardness of Dean’s dick and leaving the man pliant in his arms.

Castiel made a small sound of annoyance, pushing against Dean harder before gripping him below the ass, making a sound of effort before lifting the smithy up and leaving Dean to wrap his legs around his waist. The new angle was even better and Dean just let his head thump back and to the side, breathing roughly as a wave of warmth crashed over him, because Castiel was strong, and broad, and just… impossible and Dean was being lifted and pressed against a wall and he might possibly be going crazy because it’s been too long for either of them and the sound of the winds outside was just edging him on to let loose, be as loud as he wants because no one can hear them, see them.

“Come on man. Come on come on _come on_.” He muttered, pulling at Castiel’s hair because he wanted more, needed more, and this friction wasn’t enough but Castiel was still in his armor and not even close to being undressed and he wasn’t patient enough to wait and damn it he just _needed_. He let a shocked noise slip past his kiss swollen lips when Castiel pushed them off the wall, stumbling with the weight a moment before walking them over to Dean’s bed, Dean falling on his back and letting out a grunt when Castiel toppled next, careful to not crush the smithy with his armor and weight.

Castiel leaned off of Dean, kneeling between his legs and hands working their hardest to unstrap the leather that held his chest armor in place, the tunic already removed. Dean leaned up on one elbow, pulling Castiel into a kiss while his other hand (much more expert in removing the metal, his hands being the one who welded and crafted them together, so he knew Castiel would have some safety while he was on the battle fields) worked the straps, Castiel pulling the pauldron off his left shoulder along with the steel plate covering his chest. The moment they fell to the ground with a large clang Castiel reached behind to his back, pulling the chainmail up and over his head, Dean laughing at his enthusiasm. He helped slide the undershirt off of Castiel, then leant back so the man would have more room to shuck the chainmail covering his legs, leaving him bare in the woolen undergarment that cut off at his knees.

Dean let out a low whistle, lying back in the bed to admire the chest of his friend -lover, the muscles hard and well defined, and he couldn’t help but run his hands up and down (over scars and old wounds, just more proof of what Castiel has survived, more proof of what could so easily take him away), pausing to consider the dark happy trail with a bite to his lower lip. The smithy let one hand wonder down to palm the bulge in Castiel’s pants, giving it a light squeeze and delighting in the gasp it earned. He rubbed against it a few more times before moving his hand away to give a pat to Castiel’s right pectoral, appreciating the firm feel of it before tugging at the collar of his ragged shirt, shooting the man on top an expectant look. The soldier scrunched his brow in confusion, something akin to a whine slipping from him when Dean stopped stroking him.

“Well I helped you.” Dean clarified and Castiel blinked away the haze of lust, muttering some agreement before sitting up and dragging Dean with him while he went, tugging the shirt over Dean’s head and letting it fall next to his shucked armor. With one hand planted firmly in the middle of Dean’s lean chest he pushed him down onto his back, Dean following the movement easily and letting himself be pushed down. Now both shirtless they took moments of their own, letting their hands wander up the contours of the others body, enjoying the feel of warm ( _alive_ ) flesh and the shared body heat that made them forget about the storm and cold and only focus in on each other.

The original rush from before dwindled down to a steady thrum in the back of their minds so they could just watch the other, examine and memorize every little detail, to the smatter of freckles dotting Dean’s skin, to the large scar covering the bulk of Castiel’s chest (the one that he barely survived from, the one he earned stumbling into town being carried by a fellow brother in arms of his, the one that made Dean think he lost the soldier forever). Castiel let one hand hold him up, the other running up and down Dean’s flank, Dean on his part sliding his hands into Castiel’s hair and letting them smooth it out, scratching through and pressing in at certain parts to soothe the aches.

They lied there for a few more beats, enjoying lying close to one another until the need became too much and they both leaned at the same time, pressing their lips together slow at first then steadily gaining ground. Soon enough they were becoming just as heated as before, Dean whining into Castiel’s talented mouth and arching up into his body, spreading his legs farther so Castiel could have more room to grind down against him. Castiel groaned and pulled back, scrubbing a hand through his hair before reaching down to remove both he and Dean’s pants, Dean lifting his hips to help the pull along, his length springing free and already dripping pre-come.

They both paused now, taking the sight of the other in with heated gazes. Dean swiping his hands up Castiel’s chest and over to grip onto his broad shoulders, licking his lips as heat pooled low in his belly at the image of Castiel over him, chest expanding with each heavy breath and the blues of his eyes nearly swallowed by his dilated pupils. Castiel for his part was drinking in the sight of Dean spread out for him, mouth hanging open slightly to dart his tongue out and he was tempted to follow it, to lick back into the mouth of its owner but he withheld, choosing to instead to lean down and press his head into Dean’s neck. With each drag of breath more and more of Dean’s scent flushed his senses and sent arousal coursing through him, making him harder.

He pressed his hips slowly into Dean’s, the drag of skin dry and too rough but perfect for now, Dean letting out a low moan and pushing up, wanting more. Castiel bit down on his neck, enjoying the breathy sound Dean let out, soothing the bite with his tongue before moving down, nipping at his collar bone and kissing down his chest, swirling a tongue around a hardened nipple and giving a light bite. Dean arched into every touch, breathing heavy and digging his dull nails into Castiel’s back.

“You gonna – _ah_ , bite me or fuck me?” Dean panted out, hand leaving its grip on Castiel’s hair to grab blindly around his bed space, finding the small jar of oil he stored nearby in case he or Castiel were too out of it to stand and get some. Castiel pulled back with a small smirk (small but there, noticeable by Dean and only for Dean), grabbing the jar when Dean shoved it into his hand, uncapping the lid and applying a decent amount to his fingers. He let the liquid roll around his fingers, enjoying the slick glide before shuffling down the bed and using his dry hand to push one of Dean’s thighs back to his chest, Dean holding the leg in place for him and drawing his other up and out of the way.

The first brush of a finger against his hole had Dean holding back a moan and trying his best not to push against it, knowing it’s better to wait and be patient, because Castiel will take care of him, won’t leave him hanging (even if every time he leaves on that horse Dean feels a little bit of himself wither away). Castiel rubbed over the furled skin at a numbing pace, pressing in every so often, relaxing the muscle first so the stretch and burn wouldn’t be so bad. Dean arched his back, throwing it into the linen pillow to let out a low, long moan as Castiel pushed in, the oil smoothing the way.

Castiel bit into his lip, brow furrowing in concentration as he pulled his finger in and out slowly, giving Dean time to adjust before moving faster, twisting his finger and looking for the place he knew would drive him absolutely insane. He knew he found it the moment Dean got loud, a keen ripping from the man’s throat as he instantly pushed his hips back onto the finger, looking for that delicious feeling again. Castiel waited until Dean was lost on the feeling before adding another finger, gaining only an encouraging sound from the added girth he started to twist and scissor his fingers, making sure to get Dean properly stretched.

“I’m g-good, come on man, need it, need you.” Dean’s voice was quiet and shaky, breath lacing it and Castiel almost missed it. He stuttered out a quiet ‘okay’ before removing his fingers, not missing the way Dean rolled his hips with the motion, as if trying to get them back. He made quick work of applying oil to himself, making sure the entirety of him was well slicked before leaning back over Dean, pressing a slow kiss to his lips as he lined himself up. Castiel gave a groan as he pushed in slowly, Dean biting into his shoulder as he was slowly filled, the blizzard and war and laws and right and wrong forgotten and shoved somewhere deep in the recesses of their minds. 

Here, in the thundering deafness of the raging winds, the close warmth of shared breaths and bodies, the hidden seclusion of Dean’s cottage, they could be themselves. No priest to shout blasphemy, no woman or man to whisper devil, no war to drag Castiel off to his death, it was just them and this quiet moment. When Castiel was in all the way they both gave a full bodied shudder, Dean pressing his face into Castiel’s shoulder and panting open mouthed against it, waiting for his body to adjust. Castiel couldn’t help the small rolls of his hips, the feeling of being encased in tight warmth and heat making his mind hazy.

“Okay go.” Dean said, breaking off into a sharp gasp when Castile did exactly that, pulling out to give one hard slow thrust of his hips, rolling in before repeating, drinking in the sounds he was drawing from Dean. With every thrust and push pull of their hips Dean was losing himself a bit more, pleasure clouding his senses and dragging him closer and closer to the deep end. With Castiel over him, inside him, strong and immovable and _alive_ and keeping him warm and safe and protected (nearly losing himself in the process, Castiel’s battle scars too much proof of his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of others). Dean didn’t notice at first his mumbled words, running along the lines of ‘please don’t go’ and ‘stay here’ and the dark words that should never have left them to begin with, ‘I love you’.

Castiel showed no signs of hearing, clearly lost in his own world as he hit home Dean’s prostate and continued to thrust into him, whispering his own sweet nothings into Dean’s hair. The smithy began to let go, giving into the pleas of the back of his mind and the sound of thundering storms just outside the walls of his home. He wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist, hooking his heels and drawing the man closer, silencing his moans against the soldier’s mouth and digging his hands into the trussed black hair. Castiel returned the kiss full force, his hips beginning to stutter and become more feral, less controlled and organized and so much unlike how Castiel holds himself when others are around.

This Castiel was for Dean and him alone, this one that was lost in the throes of passion and letting go and following his most basic instinct, letting himself be taken over by pleasure alongside Dean.

Dean finished first, coming with a shout and making a mess of both their chests, Castiel coming seconds later with the spasms of Dean’s muscles milking him dry. Castiel slumped down onto Dean’s chest with a huff, Dean grumbling complaints quietly, too tired and fucked out to manage anything else. Eventually, despite the chilling cold outside, they had to pull apart, Castiel standing on boneless legs to grab Dean’s shirt so he could clean them up, tripping over his armor on the way there and earning a laugh from Dean. He just shot a glare, rubbing his hurt foot before grabbing the article of clothing, tossing it at Dean and hitting him square in the face with a triumphant snort.

“You really know how to woo a guy.” Dean joked, wiping off his semen and handing the dirtied shirt to Castiel, who made quick work of cleaning himself off before depositing the soiled shirt underneath the bed to be dealt with later. Dean was too tired to reprimand the action, and instead rolled over to leave some room for Castiel who quickly took the offered spot, grabbing the blanket that was kicked to the floor and wrapping them both up in it. Dean murmured his thanks and rolled onto his side, letting Castiel scoot up against his back and wrap an arm around his waist, drawing them closer together.

Normally Dean doesn’t do cuddling, prefers to just lie close enough to share breaths and that’s it but Castiel was gone longer this time and he made Dean worry and fear that he lost him but he was here now and safe and alive and not dead in some field. He was warm and real and strong, nuzzled up against the back of his neck and already sleeping, probably exhausted since the moment he set foot into Dean’s workshop. 

Only when Castiel was asleep did Dean willingly scoot closer, pressing himself fully against the warm body behind him, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of sex and them, listening closely to the sound of Castiel breathing, the sound of the raging winds, and those all combined lulled him to sleep, curled up with Castiel while a blizzard raged where no one could disturb them.

“Love you.” He whispered into the room, one hand going over the one around his waist, letting sleep finally take him, not noticing the soft smile that Castiel was pressing against his neck, or how the man’s hands curled just the slightest more around his body. He was sleepy and happy and Castiel was here and they would deal with the inevitable snow in later.

**Author's Note:**

> im thinking of doing a sabriel companion with a woodsman sam and baker gabriel?????


End file.
